


Gallimaufry

by andrastes_grace



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Horror, Mid-Canon, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:58:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrastes_grace/pseuds/andrastes_grace
Summary: The Elric brothers hear of a possible lead on getting their bodies back while staying with Izumi Curtis.  Their investigation takes them to the city of Woehen, and into the secrets surrounding the enigmatic Harrington family.





	1. Iron Hans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As the sun shone on his golden hair it sparkled and gleamed so much that the reflections shone into the princesses’ bedroom._   
>  _She jumped up to see what it was, and saw the boy and called out, “Boy! Bring me a bouquet of flowers.”_

She noticed the golden hair.  It was like a sunbeam on the grey, overcast day and it separated him – she thought it was a ‘him’, it was hard to tell from the distance – from the colourless people who shared the space around him.  After she noticed the gold of his hair, her eyes were drawn to the rest of the explosion of colour he created.

“Jonathan?” Her voice was clear, precise and unused to being disobeyed.

“My lady?”

“The one with the golden hair.  Do you see him?” 

There was a shuffling as Jonathan came towards the window.

“I do, my lady.”

“I want him.  Have him brought here.”

Before Jonathan left she called out, “And do be quick.  I’m getting bored.”

 

“You ever been to Woehen?”

Those were the first words to greet Edward Elric was he walked through the door of Curtis Meats.  He’d been out for several hours, making deliveries and running errands for the woman who was technically his former teacher, but still happily bossed him and his brother around.

“Why?  You want me to deliver there?”

“Nope.  Ran into an old friend today.  Alchemist.  Former state alchemist, actually.”  Izumi was chopping meat, the knife making a _thunk_ sound as she uttered the words ‘state alchemist’.  “I try not to hold it against him – people can make whatever stupid-ass decisions they want.  At least _he_ was smart enough to get out.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I get it.”

“Anyway.  We got talking about old times.  He told me about a friend of his – former partner back when he worked in Central.  Alchemist named Nathaniel Ashton, specialised in bio-alchemy.  Sound useful?”

“Could be,” Edward replied, carefully trying to push away thoughts of the last time he and his brother had met a bio-alchemical specialist.

“Apparently this Ashton left Central – got a job in Woehen.  But that was over ten years ago now.”

“It’s something.”  It had been over three years since the Elric brothers had started their search for a way to restore their bodies and they’d travelled over a great deal of Amestris.  But the south was mostly untouched by their journey.  If anyone had asked them they’d say it was because their research had never led them south, but really they just hadn’t wanted to face their teacher again. 

 “You mind we go check it out?”

“I wouldn’t have told you if I did.”  Izumi threw her knife into the sink, where it fell with a clatter.  “Just keep in mind it’s a long shot.  Don’t get your hopes up, Ed.”

‘Don’t get your hopes up’ and ‘it’s a long shot’.  That was nothing new when it came to chasing down leads to get his brother’s body back.

 

That had been a week ago.

Woehen was another dead-end.  Nathaniel Ashton had apparently been offered a job at an independent alchemy lab, who had been thrilled to obtain a researcher who had been considered for state examination.  But he’d never shown up.  And that had been nearly fifteen years ago.  Edward was dealing with this depressing reality with ice cream.   He figured that, since the entire trip had been a waste of time and money, he might as well sample what the city was famous for.  Still, the city’s main library contained several volumes on alchemy that neither Edward nor his brother Alphonse had ever seen before, and the lab itself was producing interesting research, so it wasn’t a total loss.

He pushed away the third empty bowl of ice cream, letting it join the others on his table, and got up.  From the looks of the sky and the dull ache from his automail arm and leg it was going to rain soon, and the memory of the storm in Rush Valley was still fresh.  He knew how bad the south could get when it rained.

Before he could go anywhere the day became more overcast with the arrival of two figures, looming over him.  The men were built like Sig Curtis, his teacher’s husband who was roughly the size and shape of a bear, and were ranking very low on the friendliness scale.

“Lady Cecelia would like to talk to you,” the first one said.  There was a thinly veiled threat in his words.

“You need to come with us,” the other one said, the threat in his words was slightly more obvious.

Edward just shrugged.  “Whatever.”  He made to go inside the shop, where his brother was waiting for him, but one of the men grabbed his arm.

“I don’t think you understand.  This isn’t a request.”

Edward shook the man’s hand off his arm and turned to face him, golden eyes narrowed in annoyance.   He hadn’t been looking for a fight, but these two were really giving him no choice.  He sighed, and placed his hands together.  He could feel the alchemical energy building between them and he drew that force along his right arm, changing and shaping the automail into a blade.

The gentle ringing of the shop’s bell as someone exited it, and the polite inquiry of “is something going on here?” interrupted any violence that was about to take place.

“Hey, Al.” Edward replied, not taking his eyes off the two men confronting him.  “Just having a chat with the locals.”

“Geez, brother.  Not again.”

“I didn’t start this.  But I’m gonna finish it.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” one of the men said, attempting to out-loom Alphonse.  The man was tall, and very muscular but Alphonse was a seven foot tall suit of armour and that does tend to give someone an edge in the looming stakes.

“I think you should leave now.  Before someone gets hurt, ‘kay?”

It wasn’t a threat.  If someone had taken it that way, it was likely that Alphonse would’ve been horrified and apologised (and he probably would’ve been believed.  A completely blank face had some advantages).  It was a simple statement, uttered very politely and it made the two men step back.  Maybe it was what he said.  Maybe it was the completely unreadable face.  Maybe it was because the numbers were no longer two against one.  Maybe it was simply because they were being out-loomed.  Whatever it was they were no longer as confident as they’d been a moment before.

“You gonna take that advice or are we gonna have to beat it into ya?”

Edward was grinning.  In most mammals displays of teeth were considered an act of aggression.  Edward could be considered to be particularly aggressive in this case.

The two men slunk off.  Whatever it was they had wanted was, for the moment, abandoned.

“What was all that about?” Alphonse asked his brother, who was transforming his arm back to its original shape.

“No idea.  Guess word got out about me.  You have fun in there?”

“Mmm.  I got to make ice cream.”

“Heh.  Awesome.”

 

The next morning the Elric brothers were leaving their hotel.  They planned to spend one more day in Woehen before heading back to Dublith.

“Excuse me, young man!”  The voice was trying to be heard over the morning crowd of people on the streets.  Edward ignored them, assuming they were meant for someone else.  “You, in the red coat!”

That got Edward’s attention.  His coat was one of a kind, and he seemed to be the only person in the city wearing such a bright colour.  He turned to face the speaker, arms folded and face set in a scowl.  That was nothing personal – it was just his default expression.

“What?”

The man – considerably less threatening (to the point where anything threatening was completely non-existent) than the two Edward had met yesterday – peered at him closely, holding up a pair of eyeglasses held on a ribbon around his neck.

“Ah, excellent.  It is you.”

The man was elderly, probably early 60’s, with white hair in dandelion tufts around his head.  He was otherwise exceptionally neat, pressed white shirt and black trouser and a black waistcoat with shiny buttons.  His shoes were very shiny too, and possibly clean enough to eat – if one was inclined that way.

“I must, first of all, apologise for the simply disgraceful manner in which you were treated yesterday.”  Even the way he spoke was neat, if such a concept could be applied to words.  “Mr Vincent and Mr Albert are exceptionally dedicated members of my, ah, staff if slightly inclined towards enthusiasm.”

“That’s… really nice.”  Edward replied, in a tone that indicated he was barely paying attention.  “Apology accepted, whatever.  I got things to do.”

“Ah.  If I could have just a moment.  My name is Jonathan Wentworth and I represent Lady Cecelia Harrington in all matters.  Her ladyship has requested a brief moment of your time, at your earliest convenience.  Naturally this invitation is extended to your, ah –“  He paused, and looked up at Alphonse, then looked up slightly more.  It was possible to hear the words Jonathan did not say, because the brothers had heard them all before.  ‘Bodyguard’.  ‘Father’.  ‘Guardian’.  ‘Alchemical construct.’

“Younger brother,” Alphonse helpfully supplied.

“Younger brother, indeed.  As I was just about to say.  Naturally, this invitation is extended to both you and your younger brother.”  He gave a small bow towards Alphonse, who wondered if he’d embarrassed the man.

“Yup.  Still not interested.  Maybe you should’ve considered ‘asking nicely’ before skipping straight to the ‘attempted kidnapping’ part.  It generally works better that way.”

“Ah.  Yes, of course.”

“Maybe you should hear him out, brother.  This Lady Cecelia went to a lot of trouble to find you.”

Edward sighed.  Alphonse was too damn nice for his own good sometimes.  “Fine.  What does she want?”  His tone of voice made the ‘you have five seconds to convince me or I leave’ unnecessary to vocalise.

“That, I am afraid, I cannot answer.  Her ladyship’s whims are her own.  I merely extend her reach into the world beyond her estate.  Lady Cecelia will able to answer your inquiry.”

“The only thing I’m interested in is information on an alchemist called Nathaniel Ashton.  Tell her if she can give me that, then I’ll consider her invitation.”

Jonathan’s response was a sudden look of something that could’ve been surprise, or equally could’ve been worry.  It also could’ve been a bout of indigestion.  He blinked, several times, and his hands went to the eyeglasses he wore, as if he was going to raise them to his face.  “On Mr _Ashton_?  Why would you - ?”  He stopped, allowing his glasses to fall on their ribbon,  “Never mind.”

“You actually know him?”  It had been a week without any leads whatsoever, and suddenly one tracks _them_ down?  It almost seemed to be good to be true.

Jonathan hesitated, putting on his glasses and adjusting them and then removing them.

“I would… be willing to present your request to her ladyship.”  Edward had figured as much.  Another dead end.

“Great.  Right.  Looking forward to it,” Edward replied, completely deadpan, while walking away.

“Wait!  If I need to give you her ladyship’s answer – will I find you here?”

“Either here or at the library.”

While Woehen was not the size of one of Amestris’ hub cities, it was large enough to have a considerable number of libraries.

“Which library?”

“You’re good at finding me, apparently.  Find it out.  See ya, old man.”

When they were out of earshot, Alphonse asked, “do you think he actually knows anything about Ashton?”

“That guy?  Nah.  What are the odds of _that_?”

 

It was a couple of hours later and the brothers were researching at the library.  They heard a voice saying ‘ah, excuse me.  If I could just get round,’ in that special ‘I’m in the library’ whisper which always ended up being louder and carrying further than simply talking.

Finally, Jonathan Wentworth made it to their table.

“Ah, yes.  Excellent.”  He seemed to be incapable of greeting them in any other fashion.  “Her ladyship has heard your request and asked me to pass this onto you.”

He presented Edward with a page torn very carefully from a notebook.

“What is –“ Edward was already reading it over before he’d finished asking his question.  “No. Way.”

“Indeed.  Yes.  You will note that this page contains Mr Ashton’s signature and if you turn the page – thank you – you’ll see fragments of the man’s alchemical research.  Or perhaps a shopping list.  Who can tell with these, ah, alchemists?”

“Do you have the rest of this?”  He couldn’t hide the spark of excitement in his voice, and he handed the page to Alphonse, who read it over with a soft ‘oh.’

“Her ladyship possesses the rest of the notebook.  In addition you would have access to the gentleman in question’s, ah, laboratory.”

“Does he work for this Lady Harrington?”

“He served Lady Cecelia’s family, but is no longer in their employ.  However, any research he performed in the service of the family is the property of the Harrington’s, not Mr Ashton, and so it remained after he left.”

“What do you think, Al?”

His brother was still studying the page.

“If the rest of his research is anything like this, then –“

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“So you agree to the meeting?”

“Yeah.  Lead the way.”

 

The house Jonathan led them to was near the centre of the city.  A tall wall surround the house and garden, but the house’s tower rose even above that.  Jonathan opened the gate into the garden, and when it closed behind them it cut out so much of the sound of the rest of the city.

“If you could follow me,”  Jonathan said, leading them into the house.  “Do either of you wish to hang up your coat or, ah, suit of armour?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Alphonse answered, and Edward simply shook his head.  The house was beautiful, but there was a stark coldness to it.  It didn’t feel like a place where people lived.  The Elric house – after their mother had died – had felt like that.  Everything that had made their home a home was still there, but it felt like they were living in a mirror reflection of their old lives.

Jonathan led them through the house and up a flight of stairs.

Then up.

And up.

And up.

And up.

They were climbing the tower, and at the top was a wooden door, which Jonathan knocked on.

“You may enter,” called a voice from within, and Jonathan pushed the door open.

There was a figure by the window, dressed in black.  A telescope, pointed at the sky, was next to her.  The room had been painted in hues of purple and blue and high ceiling was decorated with stars, constellations painted with accuracy.  Where there weren’t books there were paintings or potted plants.

“Oh, wonderful,” the figure – Cecelia - said, although she sounded bored.  “You found him.”

From the way Jonathan had spoken about her, the brothers had expected an older woman, too elderly to leave her house.  They hadn’t been expecting a teenage girl.  She looked to be around Edward’s age.  Her long, charcoal black hair and dark clothing made her look slightly washed out, and her eyes were colour of midnight, if midnight was a shade of blue.

“You can leave, Jonathan.  And you, in the armour.  You as well.”

“My brother is staying with me.”

“Yes, but I don’t require him,” the girl replied, in a tone that indicated she felt this settled the matter.  Her bangs were cut straight across her forehead, stopping just above her eyes.  With her pale, pointy face it gave her a severe, old fashioned look.

“You want to speak to me, then both of us are staying.”  Coming into a mysterious house was one thing (and something the brothers were more or less experts in) but separating while inside a mysterious house was a different matter altogether.

“Brother, it’ll be fine.”

“Like hell it will be.”

“Fine.”  Cecelia’s voice cut through any argument the brothers were going to have.  “Your brother may stay.  Providing he stands over there,” she pointed to the corner of her tower room furthest away from the window where she was sitting, “and doesn’t move, speak or force me to acknowledge his presence.”

“What kind of fucked up request is _that_?”

Cecelia shrugged, “Alternatively he could get a tour of the house – I’m told it’s quite lovely – access to Mr Ashton’s laboratory and my parents library.  And – oh! – “ she clapped her hands together excitedly, “I believe Lady Whiskers just had her kittens!”  For the first time Cecelia actually sounded like a teenage girl.

“I could get a head start on our research, brother.” Alphonse said, but with the jittery excitement that told Edward he was more interested in the cat than alchemy.

Edward just scowled, still unhappy, but nodded and Alphonse left with Jonathan.  He caught the words ‘Lady Whiskers’ being said as they walked down the stairs.  He doubted that Alphonse would make any headway into his research.

“So,” Edward said, “What do you want?”

She was staring at him, her face serious.  Then she smiled.

“It’s amazing!  It really is gold!  I thought it was just the lighting, but it’s not.  It’s beautiful.”

“My… hair?”  Edward raised a hand to touch it, slightly self-conscious.  It was just hair.

“Mmm.  That’s why I asked you here,” Cecelia picked up a sketch pad that had been leaning against the wall, “I want to draw you.  Oh, I’m _so_ glad you came.  This is going to be so much fun!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at writing a mystery, and I hope it works as one.
> 
> All chapter titles and quotations at the start of each chapter come from _Grimm Tales for Young and Old_ by Philip Pullman and I would really recommend reading it.
> 
> Whether or not they have anything to do with the chapters is, I guess, for you to judge.
> 
> The title doesn't mean anything. It's just the name of my favourite fairy tale.
> 
> Fairy stories were a pretty major inspiration for this. Something else was too, but - to quote Doctor Who - _spoilers, sweetie_


	2. Rapunzel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rapunzel grew up to become the most beautiful child the sun had ever shone on. When she was twelve years old, the witch took her into the depths of the forest and shut her in a tower that had no door, no stairs and no windows except one very small one in a room right at the top._

Edward had to spend several seconds processing what Cecelia had said.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Cecelia shrugged, but nearly all her attention was focused on her drawing.

“And why not?  You looked interesting, so I wanted to see you.”

In the three years since he’d become a state alchemist, Edward had come across a great number of people desperate to meet him (or, more accurately, desperate to meet the Fullmetal Alchemist.  Meeting with Edward Elric was mostly considered an unfortunate side effect.)  Fellow alchemists, community leaders, (often corrupt) military officials and – most recently – a homunculus called Greed.  Most had wanted his alchemical skill and knowledge.

This – this was a first.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know he looked unusual.  He’d only ever seen two other people with the same golden hair and eyes as him, and he was related to both of them, but it had never really got him more than a few stares and comments before.

“I have been remiss, I suppose.”  Cecelia’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Your name.”  She didn’t phrase it as a question, nor did she sound interested.

“Why do you want to know?”  They way she’d asked made it sound like it was a chore.

“Convenience.  I can’t just call you ‘hey you’ or ‘you with the golden hair’, can I?”

“it’s Ed,” he told her, not wanting to spend however long this took being called either of those things.  “Edward Elric.”

“Uh-huh,” Cecelia was focused on her drawing, and made no reaction to his name. 

“The Fullmetal Alchemist,” he continued.

That did get a reaction.  She stared at him, thoughtfully.  She tapped her pencil against her lips, thinking, before she pointed it at him.

“You say that as thought I should know who you are.”  Cecelia returned to her drawing.

“You know, I’m pretty famous!”

She shrugged, again, and Edward was starting to find that habit annoying.

“Not famous enough for me to have heard of you, clearly.”

Woehen was in the south west of Amestris, a long way from the east area where Edward usually operated.  It was understandable, if disappointing, that she hadn’t heard of him.

“So how is this drawing thing going to work, anyway?  How long is going to take?”

“Yes, I suppose you wish to see Mr Ashton’s laboratory.  We’ll be done in an hour or two, I would assume.  I don’t often get the chance to draw people from life.  Afterwards you can study in Mr Ashton’s laboratory, or leave.   I don’t really care what you do.  You can take as long as you want in the lab, by the way.  Days, weeks.  It makes no difference to me.  Jonathan will provide you with anything you require.  The entire house is open to you.”

“Where is Ashton, anyway?”

“I don’t know.  He left my parents’ employ a little before they died.  It’s a shame, he was my favourite tutor.”

“Did he teach you alchemy?”

“No.  He taught me art.  He used to say they were very similar.”

She didn’t sound like she was talking to Edward, it was more like he was a convenient person to direct her words towards.  Cecelia pointed with her pencil again to a chair opposite her, without taking her eyes off her work.

“You’re pretty fucking rude, you know that?”

Cecelia shrugged, again, “It’s never been a problem for me before.  I ask for something, and it’s done.  It’s always been that way.”

“Yeah, I expect everyone in Amestris just falls over themselves to support you.” Edward muttered, loud enough for Cecelia to hear him, as he sat down.

“I wouldn’t know,” Cecelia replied, “I’ve never left my tower.”

 

“You’ll have to excuse Lady Cecelia’s manner,” Johnathan said, as he and Alphonse descended the tower, “she was very ill as a child and, ah, has not found much opportunity to mix with people her own age.  We, that is her staff, have done our best to be the companionship she requires but our differences in station have not always made that the easiest of tasks.”

“Oh.”   It was a non-committal ‘oh’.

“She has, unfortunately, not left her tower since she was very young.  Mr Ashton used to take her on walks in the grounds, but that had to cease when her illness became… too much.”

“Oh.”  There was a lot more feeling behind that one.  Alphonse understood loneliness better than anyone.  When he’d first found entered into his own unusual situation, he’d found himself pushing his brother and Winry away.  Loneliness hurt, and it made you want to hurt others.  He thought of a girl sitting, alone, in a tower and watching a world she could never be part of.

They walked in silence for a while, before Jonathan continued.

“It doesn’t excuse her, ah, sometimes unkind comments, I know.  But I hope it allows you to understand her a little better.  This way,” he indicated a door that was slightly ajar.   It opened into a study, the most stereotypical study Alphonse had ever seen.  Bookcases lined the walls, there was a large globe and an antique desk in front of a large window that overlooked the gardens.  But the room contained the same feeling of emptiness that permeated the rest of the house.  The carpet was covered by a layer of dust with footprints, human and feline, that indicated the room had only just begun to see use once more.

“The late Lord Malcolm Harrington’s study,” Jonathan explained.  He pointed towards two portraits, one on either side of the window the desk was in front of.  One of a woman with chestnut coloured hair, the other a blond man.  “Lord Malcolm and his wife, Aletha.  Fine people.  I have done my best to keep the room as his lordship once did, but it sees so little use these days.  But this is where Lady Whiskers chose to have her kittens.  She’s under the desk.”

Alphonse made his way over to the desk, all too aware of just how loud and clanking his footsteps were.  He stopped a little distance from it, knelt down and peered under the desk.

A grey cat was curled up on a pile of blankets, towels and cushions, two tiny grey fluffs snuggled up to her.  She looked up at Alphonse with wary green eyes and hissed.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to scare you.  I’m sorry.”

He left.  The reaction wasn’t unexpected, but it still hurt.

“If you’re done I can show you to Mr Ashton’s old laboratory.”

Alphonse nodded, and followed Jonathan.

 

Edward was bored, and tried not to fidget.  He focused on the drawings on the wall directly in front.  Several of them had been drawn directly the wall’s surface itself.  Cecelia had been right when she’d said art and alchemy were closely related, and Edward knew enough to see she was good.  Art taught by an alchemist - Edward wondered if Ashton had coded his own notes in art, or if had just been a hobby, and if he had if anything useful had made its way into his student’s style.

“So, you’ve never left this tower?”

“No,” Cecelia was focused entirely on her art.  She’d finished sketching what felt like years ago, and working blending colours in chalk.  “Not for a very long time.”

“Why?”  Even before becoming a State Alchemist and destroying his home, Edward had found it hard to stay still.  His mother had found him more than once at Resembool station, watching the trains and the people.

“I was very ill as a child, so I stayed here.”  She kept working while she spoke, only looking up to check the shade she was creating was a match for his hair.  “While I was here I could be looked after.  It’s very simple.  I’m told I collapsed frequently.  I imagine it must’ve been very difficult.”  Another shrug, “But I don’t remember it.”  She talked as thought as was discussing the weather, with all the detachment of someone who had never seen it.

“None of it?”  It was part curiosity, part ‘making conversation while bored.’

“I remember red.”

“Red?”  It was an important colour in alchemy.  It was also a badass colour.

“Yes.  The red was painful, and I didn’t like it.  It was…” she paused, trying to find the right word to conclude a sentence in which she was describing pain as a colour, “wrong?  No.  That’s not –“ She shook her head.  “It was a long time ago now.  It doesn’t matter.”  She looked down at her latest page, and sighed.

“You may go now.  I’m finished.”

She pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling and Edward heard a bell ringing somewhere in the depths of the house.

“Someone will be along in a moment.  They’ll show you to the laboratory, or out if you wish to leave.  I won’t require you again.  If you need anything I have a staff.  Ask them.  I’m sure they’ll be happy to help.  Frankly I’m unsure of what exactly I pay to them to do all day.”

She stood up, stretched, and threw her sketchbook with a careless accuracy onto a table by Edward’s chair.  He glanced at the top page of drawings.  He didn’t _really_ look like that, did he?  Edward clicked open his pocket watch, wondering how long he spent up the tower.

_Five fucking hours._

 

It was Jonathan who led Edward to Mr Ashton’s old laboratory.  Alphonse was already there, studying.  The lab itself was what looked to be an old wine cellar, and there were wine racks still along one wall, now being used to store paper, note and pens.  What wall space that wasn’t taken up by the old wine racks was occupied by bookshelves.

“Getting anywhere, Al?” Edward asking, seeing his brother studying Ashton’s notebook.

“Not really.  These,” he indicated the notebook, “seem to be the only notes around.  Everything else is reference books, or artwork.”

“Cecelia said he was an artist.”

“That makes sense.  What did she want, anyway?”

“She… wanted to draw me.”

“Really?  _You_?  Why?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?  Yes, me.  And she’s pretty good too, Ashton taught her.  Ahh, whatever.  Who cares about her?  You must’ve found out something.  You’ve been working for hours.”

“Mmm.  It looks like he was working on human transmutation, but there’s nothing here beyond simple formula and theories.  Unless we find the rest of his notes there’s nothing in here that goes that far beyond what we already know.”  Alphonse sighed, an echo within in his armoured shell.  “You should’ve taken Greed up on his offer, brother.”

“Yeah, well.  Probably should’ve done a lot of things.”  Edward replied, not meeting his brother’s soulfire eyes.  He looked past him instead, focusing on the wine rack.  He went to take a closer look, and pulled out one of the neatly rolled up paintings at random.  The painted scene showed the Harrington house at night, and a dark haired child playing with a broken, golden haired doll.

“If the notes are hidden there,” Alphonse said, in response to his brother’s unspoken comment, “it could take months to get through them.  I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

There was an obvious answer to this, but Edward wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it.  But he didn’t have to.

“You said Ashton taught Cecelia art,”

“We’re not asking her.”

“Why not?  She could know something.”

Edward sighed.  “You try spending a few hours with her and see how keen you are you to go back.”

There was a lot that Alphonse would tell his brother, but some things were more difficult to say than others.  He couldn’t say that feeling trapped would leave you feeling like hurting other people was a good idea, or that loneliness made any interaction – even bad – feel welcome.

“I’m going to go see her,” he said, instead.

 

It was the next day before Alphonse found himself at the top of the tower. They had spent the rest of the day going through what they could find of Ashton’s notes before retiring to their hotel.  He knocked on the door.  Cecelia’s disinterested voice from within called out,

“You may enter.”

Alphonse pushed the door open and ducked his head slightly to enter the room, feeling self-consciously big.

“I didn’t send for you,” Cecelia said.  She had been reading, and her book was sitting on her lap.

“I thought you might like company,” Alphonse was a better liar than his brother, when the situation called for it.

“Ah.  Then Jonathan sent you.  He does so love to interfere.”

“No, I –“

“I don’t need pity.  I am content.  But, since you are here; you may stay.”

If Alphonse had a body he would’ve taken a deep breath. 

“If you’re going to stay then speak.”

Long ago Alphonse had learnt how to differentiate between the things he _said_ and the things he _thought_ , not always the easiest of task in his situation.

Talking to Cecelia made him very glad he had.

“I saw Lady Whiskers,” he said, instead and it had the desired effect.  A true smile, at long last.

“Oh, isn’t she just wonderful.  I haven’t seen her since she went to have her kittens.  What are they like?  Are they sweet?”

“They’re small and grey and so fluffy.”

“I’d love to see them one day.  Jonathan has promised to bring them to me once they’re old enough.”

“You could go see them.”

“I – shouldn’t leave my tower.”

“Why not?  You could see the rest of the house, at least.”

Cecelia stared at him, partly thoughtful and partly annoyed.  “Why are _you_ wearing that armour?”

“Umm.  It’s complicated.”

Cecelia laughed, “Yes, I could say the same thing.  This tower,” she touched the wall gently, “is my armour.  My protection.  Leaving it is not that easy.”

Alphonse was silent.  After a moment of deliberation he reached up and removed his helmet, bending over slightly so Cecelia could see what was inside his armoured body, or what wasn’t inside.

“I can’t leave, but I want to,” he explained.

“I suppose this isn’t… normal?” Cecelia asked, with genuine curiosity.

“No,” Alphonse put his helmet back on and straightened up.

“I see,” Cecelia reached over the table next to her, taking up her sketchbook and a pencil.  “What did you look like?  I assume you weren’t born like that.”

“Oh, uh.  I guess I look like my brother.”

“I see,” she repeated, her pencil moving swiftly over the page.

“I’m taller,” he added.  At least, he had been when he was ten.  “And I keep my hair short and neat.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” She smiled as she sketched.  “What about the way you dress?  Like your brother?”

“No!  Something would have to be seriously wrong with the world for me to dress like brother does.”

“I’ll use my best judgement, then.  You’re Alphonse, correct?  Brother to the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric.  Edward said he was famous.  I decided to see this for myself.  Jonathan was able to find me a great deal of information in very little time.  It appears his assessment was correct – he _is_ quite famous.”

For a moment there was just the scratching of Cecelia’s pencil, and then:

“I take it back, you are _very_ interesting.  I wish I’d asked you to stay earlier.  I’m wondering, Alphonse.  You and your brother have travelled a great deal, yes?  Have you ever been to Creta?”

“We’ve been to Milos, but not as far as Creta itself.”

“That’s a shame.  Mr Ashton was from Creta.  He promised to take me there when I was better.  I suppose he got tired of waiting for me.”

“You think he went back to Creta?”

“I suppose.  My parents just told me he’d left their employ.  You know, you don’t need to stand so still.  I’m not drawing from life, after all.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“And there’s no need to apologise, either.  I’ve decided, Alphonse Elric.  You and I can be friends.”

Alphonse was about to say that wasn’t how friendship usually started, but then he remembered his recent experiences in Dublith, and decided that he wasn’t the best judge of what made a normal friendship.

“Did you know,” Cecelia said, as Alphonse looked at the paintings and drawings covering her walls, “you’re the first person to ever come here without me expressly inviting them?”

“Do you invite everyone the way you did my brother?”

“I wouldn’t know.  I simply tell Jonathan.  He sees to the arrangements.  How _did_ you get invited, anyway?”

Alphonse told her, and Cecelia laughed,

“Those would be the Garrett brothers.  They look mean, but they’re big softies.  They used to give me piggyback rides around my room before my parents banned that.  The older one is an Al too, actually.  But that’s short for Albert.  They’re both terribly enthusiastic about their jobs.  I’ll make sure they apologise.”  She paused for breath.  Alphonse got the feeling this was more than she’d said in a long time.  “You seem very interested in my drawings.  If there’s one you like just take it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t…”

“Nonsense.  Of course you could. Besides, I believe gift giving is an accepted custom between friends, yes?”  She shrugged, “I can always paint more.”

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something about them.”

“Oh?  Ask away.”  Cecelia hummed while she drew, and didn’t seem to be aware she did.

“Brother said you told him that Mr Ashton taught you art?”

“He did.”

“Alchemists write their research in code, and we think that Mr Ashton’s was his paintings, and we though – “

“You thought I might know how to read them.”  Cecelia’s expression was unreadable on her face, shadowed as it was by her hair.

“Ummm…”

“You may leave now.”

“Oh, I – “

“I thought you’d actually come here because you wanted to see me.  But you didn’t.”  There was a snap as she closed her sketchbook.  “Leave.”

“I’m sorry.  I really did come to see you _and_ I wanted to ask about the paintings.”

“I see.”  The sketchbook remained closed.  “Very well.  I have a proposition for you, Alphonse Elric.  I will give you and your brother as much help as I can with the paintings -”

“Thank you – “

“ - And in return,” there was a pause, and the smallest of smiles,  “We’re leaving my tower.  I want to see outside.”

“Are you sure?  I mean, you said this tower was your protection.  And Mr Wentworth told me how ill you were…”

Cecelia waved a dismissive hand, “Jonathan can make a terrible fuss about nothing sometimes.  I haven’t _felt_ ill in a long time.” Another sigh,  “You were very honest with me earlier, Alphonse and I want to be honest in return: I hate it here and I want to leave.  And I find it hard to believe that any harm could come to me if I’m under the protection of a state alchemist and his brother.”

Alphonse could think of many, many ways Cecelia could come to harm in their company, but her smile was just so hopeful.

 

Alphonse made his way very carefully down to Ashton’s old lab.  Edward was reading.  Ashton had owned a number of interesting alchemical texts at least.

“Brother?  I was thinking we could go for a walk.”

Edward didn’t look up from his book, “we just got here.”

“I just think it might help with our research.”

“How could _leaving_ help with our research?”

Despite the fact that there was no-one else around, Alphonse lent in close and quietly told Edward why.

 

The brothers walked away from the house in silence, finally broken by Edward saying, “This is a really bad idea.”

“Well you’d know all about ‘bad ideas’” Alphonse responded.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Alphonse just laughed.

They walked in silence through the busy streets, until they figured they were far enough away from the Harrington house.  Alphonse ducked into an alley, while Edward stood guard at the entrance.  A few moments later both his younger brother and Cecelia emerged from the alley.

“That was really cramped!”  It was possibly the most thrilled anyone had ever sounded while complaining.  Cecelia stretched, and looked around her with a nervous excitement.  “What should we do first?  There’s a lot of people around, isn’t there?  Is there always so many people around?”  She seemed to be trying to say and see everything at once.

“Maybe we should start with ice cream?” Alphonse suggested.  He might not be able to eat it, but that didn’t mean the others wouldn’t enjoy it.

“Ice cream!  Yes.  Excellent.  You may escort me,” she said, primly, to Edward.

“Huh?”

“You offer me your arm and you walk me to… wherever it is one goes to get ice cream.”

“You can’t just walk there by yourself?”

“That wouldn’t be proper.”  Edward got the feeling Cecelia was making fun of him.

“Brother, be nice.”

“Fine.” Edward extended his arm to Cecelia, who looped hers through it.  The two of them, with Alphonse following a step behind, walked down the street.  Edward wondered, briefly, what it would be like to walk like this with Winry.  He suspected it would have a great deal of being tugged around to look at automail.

 

Walking with Cecelia did not involve being dragged to look at automail.  Instead it was art supplies, clothing, books and an entire art gallery.  And Cecelia did not appear to be inclined to pay for any of it.

Finally, Edward brought himself and Cecelia an ice cream cone each, which they ate as they walked.  Every so often Cecelia darted off to look at something – anything – and Edward was glad that she no longer thought it necessary to hold his arm while they walked.  It had been badly damaged when he fought Greed and he was pretty sure Cecelia would’ve pulled it off by now.

“What should we do now?” Cecelia asked, once she was finished her ice cream.  “That tasted better than anything I’ve ever eaten, by the way.”

“You never had ice cream before?” Edward asked.

“Oh, of course I have.  I live in _Woehen_ , after all.  But I’ve never had ice cream that tasted of freedom and rebellion before.”

“What is it you want to do?” Alphonse asked.

“I don’t know.  What _do_ people do for fun?”

The brothers exchanged a quick glance.  It was difficult to answer a question when you had no frame of reference.  Both of them were pretty sure other children hadn’t spent their childhoods researching human transmutation and then joined the military.

“We used to go to the river a lot, didn’t we?” Alphonse said.

“Yeah.”  That had been a long time ago.

“Why did you go to the river?”

“Just to play, or swim.  Used to look for frogs sometimes.”

“Why?”

Edward shrugged.  “Dunno, frogs are cool, I guess?”

“Then we look for frogs!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Alphonse asked, worried.  “I’m guessing you never learnt to swim.”

“I’ll be fine.  I’ll have you two with me, after all.”

“If you fall in I’m not hauling you out,” Edward muttered.

“Then I won’t be able to tell you anything about Mr Ashton’s paintings, will I?”

 

The River Barton ran through Woehen, and a number of the city’s flood plains had become common ground or parks so it was easy to find somewhere green and quiet.  The brothers had found a shallow stretch of river which Cecelia was wading in, the water not quite reaching her knees.  Alphonse was nearby, having almost as much fun looking for frogs as Cecelia was.  Edward was leaning against a tree, arms folded and watching the two of them.

“Are you not going to join us?”

“Nope.”

Edward’s brusque dismissal took Cecelia aback.  “Oh.  The impression I got earlier was this was something you would enjoy as well.”

“It is, yeah.  It’s just –“ Automatically Edward’s left hand went to his right shoulder.  “Complicated.”  If he was being honest, he wanted to join them.  It had been a long time since he’d been able to just have fun with his brother.  Impulsively he shrugged off his red coat and took off his boots, leaving them next to Cecelia’s shoes, rolled up his trouser legs and waded into the shallow river.

Cecelia was staring at his arm.  And then her eyes drifted downwards to look curiously at the metal foot that could be seen through the river water.  He scowled.

“What?  It’s just automail.”

“I see.  Is it necessary to cut off part of yourself to perform alchemy, or is it just lost when you perform it?”

There was a memory so sharp and sudden and _painful_ it was like it was happening again.  The white void.  The Gate.  The thing that called itself Truth and spoke with his voice.  Edward forced himself to breath.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked his voice low and cold.

“I’ve met three alchemists so far, and all three of you were missing at least one limb.  I wondered if it was compulsory.  Oh look!  A frog!”  Cecelia held her catch up triumphantly and smiled.  “If I kiss you, will you turn into a princess?”

“It’s not… necessary.” Edward said, while Cecelia cooed over her frog.  Any interest Edward had in joining her looking for frogs went the moment she had asked her question and he left the river.

“Did I say something wrong?” Cecelia asked Alphonse.

“It’s complicated.”

“So you’ve said before.”  She looked up at the sky.  “It seems to be getting late.  We should head back.  Thank you for this.  I had a wonderful time.”  She carefully put her frog down and watched as it hopped away.

 

Jonathan met them at the door when they knocked, Cecelia once again hidden inside Alphonse.

“You’ve returned?  I had rather thought you had, ah, finished?”

“Barely even started.” Edward replied.

“I see.  I can escort you to Mr Ashton’s laboratory, if you wish.”

“No need.”

“We know the way,” Alphonse said.  “Besides, we want to go visit Cecelia first.”

“ _Lady_ Cecelia is indisposed and gave instructions not to be bothered today.”

“We won’t be a moment, and have presents!” Alphonse held up one of the Cecelia’s bags of shopping as evidence.  The others were hidden inside his hollow body.

“Besides, the whole house is open to us, yeah?”

An icily polite smile from Jonathan, and he stepped aside to allow the brothers to pass.

 

Back in her tower, Cecelia retrieved a small volume from her bookcase.

“Mr Ashton gave this to me for my eleventh birthday.”  She handed it to Edward, who flicked through it quickly.

“Poetry?”

“He wrote these to go with his paintings.  If he did put his notes in his paintings then I would assume these would be helpful, yes?”

“Could be what we need.”

“If you need any help with them, let me know.  It’s the least I can do for you after today, I feel.  Whatever it is you’re looking for, I hope you find it.”

After the brothers left her tower, Cecelia picked up her sketchpad and began to draw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the scene between Al and Cecelia is slightly rushed, but I've been poking at it for weeks now (months, actually. This was meant to be a halloween story...) so I'm just going to leave it as it is.
> 
> I'm taking _Sacred Star of Milos_ to be canon (and why wouldn't I? It's awesome), but I've moved its placement in the timeline slightly because I felt like it.
> 
> Anyway. One more chapter, probably. Then possibly an epilogue.


End file.
